


Ripple

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: American Psycho, Blood, Character Death, Established Relationship, F/F, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, Police, Shooting, Twins, case-work, little kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-10 23:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John are charged with the care of Harry's twins while she and her wife are on holiday. Sherlock hates kids, but that doesn't keep a certain consulting criminal away from him or John. Established Sherlock/Watson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's a Surprise

_I'm on my way home, stop worrying. I have a surprise._   
**JW**

Sherlock studied the text message from John and frowned. In his experience, which was actually quite limited in the surprise area, this surprise could go one of two ways. It could be a lovely surprise, or a horrific surprise. Sherlock was leaning more towards the pessimistic view. He frowned as he noted the time; half past midnight which was very late for _his_ John to be out.

Earlier in the night John had gotten a telephone call from Harry that had sounded urgent. Sherlock couldn't hear exactly what Harry was saying, but from John's facial expressions it hadn't been good. As soon as he had hung up, John grabbed his jacket and hurried out of the flat with a mumbled 'be back later.' Sherlock's response was to hurry after him, but John stopped him, telling him he had to go alone. Sherlock frowned at the statement, but backed off nonetheless. As the door slammed in his face he shot it a scathing scowl before retreating to his chair. He pulled his knees to his chest to pout for a good half hour.

For the first hour that John was gone Sherlock had immersed himself in his latest experiment, a study in how different air types affected the skin of a deceased person. Sherlock had been forced to move this particular experiment into the cellar of the building by both Mrs. Hudson and John. Sherlock still didn't understand their aversions to science, but he conceded. It was one thing to please John, which he strove to do on a daily basis, but Mrs. Hudson was another story.

As soon as the first hour passed, Sherlock sent John a text asking what was going on, to which he received no reply. After an allotted time Sherlock sent another message, this time he was in their flat pacing, to which he didn't receive another reply. Growing uneasy Sherlock sent a message to Harry hoping that she might reply to him since his lover refused to, but still no reply. It was nearly eleven o'clock at this time and Sherlock was getting worried. He dialed John then, hoping that the fact he was calling him would spark some sort of response since Sherlock rarely phoned anyone, but John still didn't answer. By this point in time Sherlock had grown past worry to full on panic. He was only moments from phoning DI Lestrade and ordering a manhunt when he had finally gotten a text from John. To say Sherlock was miffed would be inadequate, he was downright pissed, but he'd never give John the satisfaction.

_I'm not worried John, merely bored._   
**SH**

_Right, and I enjoy fruit hats. How many times must I tell you that I'm a big boy and can  
handle myself?_   
**JW**

_Irrelevant. I just wanted to know what was wrong with Harry this time._   
**SH**

_No you didn't._   
**JW**

_Okay, I didn't, but you cannot blame me for worrying John._   
**SH**

_Well, no need to worry now love, I'm just coming onto our street, see you in a minute._   
**JW**

Sherlock grinned at the last message before letting his phone fall back into his pocket. He stood from his chair to move to the window. He saw a pair of headlights turn down their street. Sherlock couldn't help the slight grin. It almost felt like Christmas morning whenever John came home from an outing, or at least that's the closest feeling Sherlock would relate the erratic beating of his heart and sweaty palms to. He'd never had a reason to be excited on Christmas morning, or any morning for that matter before meeting John Watson. Hell, Sherlock sometimes doubted that he actually lived at any point before John Watson waltzed into his life. Now that Sherlock came to possess this feeling, this emotion of love, he was going to fight like hell to keep it in his possession. Sherlock, the long time sociopath was in possession of love…but then that only extended to John and no one else.

Sherlock moved to the door and stood waiting. He was debating giving John a piece of his mind about his lack of communication, or welcoming him back and going straight to the bedroom, but then the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs made him narrow his gaze. Something about the tromping sounded off, and unlike John. Sherlock concentrated, there was more than just one person coming up the stairs. The other person was smaller, much smaller and John's footfalls sounded heavier than usual, heavier then when he is weighted down with fatigue. Sherlock brought his hand up to rub over his face as he attempted to deduce who was with John and what he was carrying. Then it hit him. He took a step back from the door.

"Oh dear God no," he muttered just as the door opened.

"Sherlock?" John called as he entered the flat with a wrapped bundle in his arms and one standing next to him.

Sherlock answered with a glare when he saw Harry's twins come home with John, "Please tell me they're here for the night," Sherlock grumbled as his eyes flicked from James, asleep in John's arms to Annabelle standing next to him.

John frowned, "Sherlock," he started in a slow voice to which Sherlock groaned and turned away.

"Uncle Lock!" the little girl yelled happily and dropped John's hand. She zoomed across the threshold and wrapped her tiny arms around Sherlock's legs and buried her head into his knees.

If there was anything in the world Sherlock detested more than emotions, it was the two holy terrors Harry and her wife were raising. Sherlock stiffened, frowning severely. He reached down and pried the girl's arms from him, taking a step away, "How long?" he asked John as he turned to face him.

Annabelle stuck her tongue out at him before going back to John and wrapping her arms around his thighs.

John glared at him while welcoming Annabelle to his side once more, "Two weeks, Harry and Julie have gone on holiday," John told him with a leveled gaze which delivered the real message to Sherlock.

Sherlock glared, Harry and Julie had gone away for counseling, that's what John wasn't saying, "No," Sherlock said in a clipped tone which meant that John had better get the kids out of the flat within the next hour or suffer his wrath.

"Stop being so childish," John muttered as he set a rousing James on the floor and started to unwrap him. Both of the children were yawning wide now and rubbing their eyes.

"I am not childish, I just don't wa-"

"Sherlock," John snapped cutting him off, "I'll meet you in the bedroom," he continued in a softened tone and smiled at his lover.

Sherlock narrowed his gaze; it was unfair. John knew his smile would make Sherlock do nearly anything. He mumbled incoherent explicatives under his breath and turned towards their room, stomping much like a child.

John sighed, well, he'd be taking care of three children now he realized with a shake of his head. He returned his attention to James and Annabelle who were too tired now to put up much of a fight with him as he led them to the spare room. John had ordered Sherlock to clear it of any experiments a year back for the fact that James and Anna did spend the night every now and again, but the flat itself hadn't been entirely cleared. The children had long since grown used to the odds and ends the eccentric consulting detective left lying about.

God help him, John did love Sherlock fiercely, but that didn't keep the detective from getting on his nerves every now and again. There was just something about the dark haired, handsome man that kept John wanting even more. At the thought John absently licked his lips, tucking the kids into the large bed. He stood to lean over them and pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads.

"Goodnight loves," he muttered smoothing a hand along each of their heads. As he left the room he plugged in a night light for them also leaving their door open a crack. They were pretty used to the flat by now so John wasn't worried. He arched his back as he crossed the sitting room heading towards the room he and Sherlock shared. He pushed the door open and found Sherlock already in bed, on his side, and with his back to John. John sighed shaking his head. He pulled his jumper from his body before peeling off his undershirt. Next he discarded his trousers and left them in a bundle on the floor. He grinned to himself, now clad in only boxers as he moved towards the bed. John sighed contentedly as he got into bed.

"I am not happy John," Sherlock mumbled without turning to face him.

John frowned as he turned to put his arm around Sherlock's waist, pulling the long body against his chest. John had to scoot up to nuzzle his face into the taller man's neck. He let his warm breath move over the detective's skin, his lips pressed against Sherlock's neck, "It's only two weeks Sherlock," John whispered and lifted his head to gently nip Sherlock's ear lobe.

Sherlock stiffened, he would not be so easily manipulated. He kept his arms firmly crossed and eyes glaring out the window. He could not stop the shiver that raced along his spine, "No John, I refuse to have those monsters here longer than a night, let alone a fortnight," Sherlock stated as he still attempted to ignore John's lips that were now dancing along his shoulders.

John just smiled against Sherlock's cool, pale skin. "The time will fly," John reassure him and flicked his tongue out to taste Sherlock's skin.

Sherlock growled before finally flipping over to face John. He was still upset, but now need accompanied his anger as he wrapped his arms around John and hungrily sought out his mouth. The kiss was hard and hungry as Sherlock dominated John with a show of tongue and teeth. The detective pulled back a little to gaze down at the man he loved, "You owe me… _big_ ," Sherlock informed him before claiming his mouth once more. These next two weeks would prove to be his biggest challenge to date.


	2. Domestic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start to two weeks from hell. Already things have gone sour…for Sherlock that is.

There was something on his hips, something boney and weighing almost sixty pounds. Sherlock groaned as he tried with his enormous brain powers to make the weight disappear because it sure as hell was not John wanting a morning triste. The giggles that came from the weight further proved that it was indeed, not John Watson. This only further served to piss Sherlock off. He cracked an eyelid to be greeted with golden curls and cornflower blue eyes.

"You're awake uncle Lock!" Annabelle greeted happily as she flopped her torso on top of his own. Sherlock let out a rush of air.

"Yes, quite nice of you to notice. What are you doing in here?" he mumbled and opened his eyes fully while shoving Anna off of himself. A chuckle sounded from the man next to him. 

Sherlock glared, "good, John is awake, bug him," Sherlock instructed the four year old girl and tipped his hips a little to deposit Anna on the bed between them.

John flipped over, his bright blue eyes met mirthful blue ones framed by golden curls, John grinned, "Good morning love, where's James?" he asked lifting a hand to tuck the curls behind the little girl's ear as she giggled.

"He's making breakfast," she informed him matter-of-factually.

Sherlock sat up immediately, "He is not," he huffed, not believing the words from the girl's mouth, but to prove him wrong something banged onto the kitchen floor. "Bloody hell," he muttered and shoved the blankets off as he got to his feet to investigate.

Annabelle giggled sitting up to look down at John as he stretched and yawned, "James always makes mummy mad when he cooks," she informed the doctor before scooting herself across the bed and got to her feet.

"I'm sure he does," John added as he sat up himself. He stretched his arms over his head again to ease the kinks before getting to his feet as well. He shuffled out of the room after his skipping niece.

"John!" Came a shout from the kitchen, and John couldn't help the grin that spread over his lips. John was always utterly amused at Sherlock's interactions with his niece and nephew. They never failed to rub the great detective the wrong way whenever they were around, but John saw the underlying affection Sherlock always denied.

"What n-" John didn't finish when he came to the threshold of the kitchen, "What in God's name…" he trailed. There was a mess of flour and sugar everywhere including the four year old boy who struggled to get out of Sherlock's vice like grasp. "James!" John scolded and ignored Anna's giggles as he entered the kitchen only to promptly slip on a broken egg and land on his arse.

"That is only the beginning to your paying me back for this," Sherlock hissed, he looked down at the boy now laughing manically at his side.

James couldn't stop the stomach rumbling laughter and it wasn't long before Anna joined in. John glowered at Sherlock and pulled himself to his feet wiping the flour from his legs.

"You look silly Uncle John," James pointed out, the flour dusting his face falling off in small wisps as he doubled over.

"I'm sure I do James, what were you thinking?" John asked the little boy in a calm, even tone. Of the two, James was the most sensitive and was prone to tears at the sound of any irate or angered voice.

The boy's merry smile dropped immediately, his bottom lip trembled, and his head bowed down.

"Oh…perfect," Sherlock mumbled as he turned away, he knew what would be coming and it annoyed him to no end. James would snivel and pout and John would give in.

"I'm sorry, really I am. I just wanted to make some pancakes and toast," he muttered, the thick accent of tears underlying his words.

John sighed as he turned in a semi-circle, looking again at the ruined kitchen. He didn't even flinch when Anna knocked another bowl from the counter. 

Sherlock's jaw twitched as he strode past them all, leaning in towards John as he passed he hissed, "They are not welcome."

John just shook his head and flinched when their bedroom door slammed. He smiled though as he beckoned James to him, "Let's get you cleaned up then see what we can do with the kitchen, yeah?" John told the little boy settling a gentle hand on his shoulder. John steered him towards the bathroom, he looked over his shoulder, "come on Anna you too," he told her. The girl frowned and followed begrudgingly after them.

It took only an hour to clean the kitchen, not surprisingly it looked much better than usual. John stood back to admire his work and dusted his hands off. Sherlock had still not made an appearance from the bedroom and John didn't expect him to, not without some special coaxing. After the kitchen had been situated, John began making them all breakfast. He rummaged up what he could find to make pancakes; he even had some strawberries in the fridge to accompany the pancakes.

John looked at the clock as he flipped a pancake in the skillet to note the time; 9AM. It wasn't an unpleasant hour, but still quite early from when he'd usually be up on a normal Saturday. At the thought, his mouth opened in another wide yawn. Giggles erupted behind him. He scowled.

"Uncle John, are you sleepy?" Anna inquired in a sing-song tone with a wide grin on her face. Her blond ringlets were still damp as they hung to her small shoulders.

John shook his head, "No love," he answered her as he walked over to the table to plop a large pancake onto her plate. He looked across the table where James had nearly inhaled his own cake and sported a milk mustache; John grinned. He truly did have a fondness for children and because he knew Sherlock didn't, he'd never pushed the option of adoption. When Harry announced she and her wife were adopting, John viewed that as a way to vicariously have his own children as well, which Sherlock absolutely abhorred, or so he liked to make them all think.

"More," James announced. He held up his empty plate, sticky with syrup. John frowned when he saw that the boy had left his strawberries untouched.

"Eat your fruit, no more cakes," John answered as he sat down to sip at his tea. 

Anna giggled and stuck her tongue out her brother.

"Yeah James, don't be so greedy," she taunted as she made a show of takong a large bite of her pancake. James glared at her before he suddenly lurched himself across the table, fork aimed for her pancake.

John jumped when he saw the action, his tea spilling down his front as his spine snapped straight. Anna started to scream and tried to poke her brother with her fork. John cursed under his breath as tea dripped down the front of his sleeping shirt and landed on his boxers. "James, Anna, enough!" he snapped and set his tea cup down with a sharp snap. He glared at each them for a moment before they both retreated to their respective seats.

James looked like he was about to cry and Anna was furious. Her pancake was hanging off of her plate and syrup was pooling on the table top. Anna was about to stick her finger in the goop and lick it, but John slapped her hand away, "Not wise," he mumbled not knowing what types of things Sherlock had on the table top in the past week.

"James, leave your sister's breakfast alone, and Anna finish your breakfast," he told them sternly. His hands were on his hips as he watched them comply with his orders. He sat and blinked up at John. Anna, defiant as ever, stuck her tongue out again at James and grabbed one of his strawberry slices, throwing it into her mouth.

"Hey," James yelped as he pointed to Anna, "she took my strawberry," he whined in a high pitched I'll-get-whatever-I-want voice.

John sighed; he had turned away from them and was at the sink attempting to clean the mess from his shirtfront when he heard James. He didn't bother to look at the twins, "Anna, hands to yourself, and James, eat your fruit before Anna can get at it," he admonished them before joining them at the table again.

Anna shot John a glare, but continued to eat her pancake; syrup and crumbs clung to the area surrounding her mouth. John sighed, but smiled nonetheless. He did enjoy his niece and nephew but it was still hard work to take care of them. Then again, John had a lot of substantial training with Sherlock; the lanky detective equaled at least three or four small, stubborn little children. John sighed as he leaned back in his chair with his new cup of tea cradled in his palms. He watched Anna and James finish up their breakfast in relative silence, glares cast out every few seconds, but the truce between both held. Once both children were satisfied, he excused them to go play or watch the telly in the living room. John cleaned the table as they scrambled over each other to watch morning cartons on the telly. John quickly did the dishes and fixed a tray for Sherlock, it was an apology of sorts, and John hoped it would be received positively by the sulking detective. He picked up the tray, moved out of the kitchen, through the living room, and made his way towards the room he shared with Sherlock. He glanced over his shoulder at the children.

"Behave now, I've got to cheer up Sherlock," he told them with a stern look that told them they better be quiet and stay exactly where they were, or suffer consequences.

Anna and James grinned, nodding their heads. It was a wonder what morning cartoons could do for such small humans. John smirked. Judging by the show currently on, he had one hour until they would grow restless and bored. He came upon the closed door of the bedroom. He had to hold the tray with one hand while opening the door. He nudged it with his hip and walked into the room. He kicked the door closed behind him. Sherlock's back greeted him.

"I know you're not a fan of having the kids here, but I couldn't turn Harry down," John explained as he scooted the tray of breakfast onto the table on his side of the bed. He sat himself down and scooted onto the bed.

Sherlock did not acknowledge him. He continued to glare daggers into the wall. He was acting childish, and he knew it. He would not speak to John until he removed the two menaces from the flat. John recognized this behavior and he knew just what to do to make Sherlock melt. He grinned as he scooted towards Sherlock. He knelt next to the man's shoulders and bent down. John's lips were a mere whisper from Sherlock's ear; his hot breath cascaded in gentle wisps against the pale shell.

"Sherlock Holmes," John whispered. The doctor's lips just barely moved against Sherlock's ear, and the detective put up a valiant battle to repress the shiver that traveled down his spine.

"John Watson," he growled, yet he refused to face the doctor. No; he'd make the man work for it.

John smirked. His tongue snaked from inside his mouth to taste the outer shell of Sherlock's ear. The detective made a low rumbling deep in his throat; John felt it stir in his groin. "I swear that voice is tied directly to…" John trailed as his hands slid gently over Sherlock's shoulders and followed lean muscles from his chest down to his taut stomach; the continual moving of his hands made him have to lean against Sherlock's back with his erection pressing into him. His fingertips just breached the waistband of Sherlock's pajama pants, " _my_ cock."

Sherlock could not handle it when John spoke in a low, heady tone and threw out explicit words like 'cock.' Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut trying to make his body shut the bloody hell up! His fists tightened on his elbows, and with a swift movement he had flipped around to face John. He lifted himself and crashed his lips into John's, "God, I bloody _hate you,_ " he murmured as his fingers made quick work of the clothes John was wearing.


	3. Bloody Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Sherlock sees fit to take care of matters his own way, even if John doesn't agree.

***Day 2 of Hell***

"Sherlock you didn't honestly bring these home with serious intentions did you?" John's voice was a schooled tone of control, but Sherlock could still hear the underlying annoyance. He didn't have to look up to know what John was talking about so he continued to skim over the news article he was reading.

"Never take me lightly John," was his only reply as he set the paper on the table and turned the page. He flinched back, however, when a glob of oatmeal landed right in the middle of the page. Sherlock narrowed his gaze and looked up. His stormy grey eyes met laughing cornflower blue ones.

"Uncle Lock you didn't eat yet," Anna happily announced and scraped her spoon along the edge of her bowl in an attempt to scoop up a hefty bite for her brooding uncle.

"Brilliant," he sighed and snapped the paper shut to leave it lie on the table. He raised his head to settle his gaze upon John who sat across from him with James seated on one of his knees. Sherlock shot a glare at the small child and had to fight the flame of jealousy; really, it was uncalled for.

"Sherlock," John warned, his voice was wavering dangerously now.

Sherlock only smirked as his gaze finally settled on the brochures John was holding.

"It would be a logical action," he suggested with a raised brow and settled his chin on steeped fingers.

"Wha…Sherlock, really!" John was flustered now. He slapped the papers onto the table which caused James to flinch away from the sound. John sighed leaning into the boy to whisper something comforting. Sherlock glared again as he reached forward to crumple the ruined paper and ducked to avoid a spoon of oatmeal coming towards him from Anna.

"When people with dogs go on long vacations they take their pets to a boarding house, why can't Harry take the…things to an orphanage until they return?" And this statement, in all of its absurdity, sounded quite logical to the world's only consulting detective.

John floundered like a fish out of water. His whole face began to turn red, oh, a bit not good…not good at all. Sherlock almost wanted to shrink back into his chair to get as far as possible from the doctor's apparent anger, but in Sherlock's mind, John didn't get to be angry, Sherlock did.

A fit of giggles sounded from Sherlock's immediate left, "Uncle John you're turning into a tomato," Anna observed and dropped her spoon into her bowl to clutch her stomach in a fit of laughter.

John's gaze broke from Sherlock's to light on his niece. His temper petered out as fast as it had come on. John smirked, shaking his head. He lifted his left hand and rubbed it over his face, "Thanks Anna, finish breakfast now so we can get to the shops before the morning rush," he instructed her before settling his gaze on Sherlock.

Sherlock kept his chin firmly on his steeped fingers. He smirked and titled his head just slightly to his left, "Think about it?"

John just snorted and shook his head. He shifted his weight slightly and removed James from his knee to set him on the floor. "No Sherlock and that is the absolute end of this absurd discussion." His voice held an air of finality to it, which, over the years, taught Sherlock to choose his battles with the doctor wisely. 

Sherlock huffed sinking back into his chair with a dull thud. He'd store this petty battle into his folder of things to use against John in the future and scowled.

Anna, on Sherlock's left, stood in her chair and launched herself at the detective, wrapping her arms around his neck. Sherlock made a noise as he reached out and grabbed the table to settle himself so that he didn't topple over in his chair. He absolutely despised children, especially ones with blond curls and blue eyes that always seemed to be watching him. He made a grumbling noise deep in his throat and turned his head to look at the little girl. According to John, Annabelle had a 'crush' on Sherlock, so that was why she always put herself into his space and made random jumps and grabs at him. Sherlock found it annoying and detestable. John had a grin on his face across the table where he had begun to pick up the morning dishes.

"Uncle Lock, can't you bring me to the park today?" she whined as Sherlock extricated himself from her grabby hands.

"No," he said as he grabbed his phone from the table. He rose fluidly to his feet then turned on his heel, his blue silk dressing gown sweeping out behind him like a cape as he walked to he and John's shared room.

John sighed, someday he knew Sherlock would come around, but it didn't seem to be coming soon enough. "Alright, come on Anna, let's clean up and get to the shops then we can go to the park," he told the girl as he held his hand out for her. Anna frowned as she moved towards John and took his hand.

"Why is Uncle Lock so loony?" she asked and tipped her head back to look up at John.

John smiled fondly, "It's just how he is dear, someday he may change, but until then we just have to be patient," John told her as they entered the bathroom; James brought up the rear. 

John then started the process of washing up the twins and getting them dressed for the day. It was Sunday and he still hadn't quite figured out what to do with the twins come Monday when he had to go back to work. He sighed with the frightening thought he might have to leave them in Sherlock's very incapable hands. He shuddered again at the thought.

**\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

John sighed for the eighth time in as many minutes. Anna was refusing to go anywhere without her 'Uncle Lock' along. She rooted herself next to the couch where Sherlock was curled facing the back of the sofa. Anna had grabbed a hold of Sherlock's silk dressing gown and pulled demanding he get up and join them. Sherlock, for his part, had not moved or acknowledged her.

"Anna, love, he's not going to budge," John muttered and reached his hand out for her.

"No!" She snapped shying away from John again and started to pull on Sherlock's dressing gown, "C'mon Uncle Lock," she had moved closer to bend herself over the detective's ear now, hoping to get more of a reaction from him, and it seemed to work because he shot up like an arrow then.

"ALRIGHT, all bloody right!" he snapped pulling his dressing gown out of her fingers and shot her a murderous glare.

Anna grinned and stepped back, "Yay," she giggled clapping her hand together. 

The doctor chuckled and shook his head, God help him.

James fidgeted on John's other side, cocking his head to watch Sherlock's tall and muttering figure go into the bedroom to change, "Does he have to come?" the little boy asked with a frown, his head tipped back to look up at the doctor.

John forced a smile ruffling his fingers through James' short, dirty blond locks, "Don't worry, I'm sure your sister will have him more than occupied," John reassured; the poor little boy was frightened of the stoic detective and John really couldn't blame him given James' more timid disposition.

 

**\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It was thirty minutes later that found the group finally leaving the flat and stepping out into the mildly chilled, early April air. John grinned as he pulled a deep breath in through his nose and, without looking, reached over slapping at Sherlock's phone. He didn't turn his head to look at the detective because he could feel the glare the pale man was shooting at him. Sherlock muttered under his breath as he stepped forward, Anna mirroring his moves, and hailed a cab. Sherlock raised a brow and turned his head to look down at her; she beamed up at him.

"Joh-"

"No," John said quickly as he ushered the kids into the cab, but before Sherlock could bend in, John pulled him down and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, "thank you," he whispered quickly before getting in.

Sherlock, despite his sour mood, smirked before flicking his tongue out to gather the remaining tastes of John clinging to his lips. He was sure John knew that later tonight he'd be showing Sherlock just how thankful he was. So it was, with these thoughts, that Sherlock was able to survive the majority of the day with one of the two terrors.

 

**\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Sherlock knew that he should have stayed home, he knew it, and yet he'd gave in to the begging. He was seething inwardly while Anna skipped a few paces ahead of him. He was royally pissed off when John took James and a shopping list down one sidewalk while he gave Sherlock a smaller list and ordered him and Anna down another path. Sherlock looked down at his list. It didn't consist of much, and actually it was a list of his own things he needed to pick up; dry cleaning, various chemical cleaners for an experiment, some lab equipment, and a new scarf.

"Uncle Lock, how come you and Uncle John don't have kids?" Anna asked as she came skipping back to him and forced him to take her hand.

"Because I find them distasteful," he muttered pulling her into the dry cleaners.

Anna giggled as he began his arm, "No you don't Uncle Lock," she shot back.

Sherlock didn't want to get into it with her so he ignored her comment and went up to the counter to collect his things. He let her hand go and generally didn't pay her any mind as he dealt with the woman behind the counter. Sherlock was just gathering his shirts together when a loud crash sounded behind him. He hunched his shoulders closing his eyes with a sigh. The girl behind the counter blinked wide eyes, her gaze slowly going to Sherlock. Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut tighter and took a deep breath as he turned to face the little girl who was covered completely in white powder. Anna blinked, then sneezed.

"Right…we'll be going now," he muttered and marched towards the door leaving the little girl covered in washing detergent to scramble to catch him.

"Uncle Lock," she whined as she tried to brush the hideously scented soap from her hair and clothes, sneezing again.

Sherlock ignored her and pulled his phone out again to glare at it. He'd sent Lestrade a text earlier that was practically begging the DI to bring him into any case…any case at all, but the Detective Inspector hadn't responded to him. Sherlock could not remain in the flat much longer with the twins and keep hold of the very little sanity he even had to begin with. Only the thought of what he would make John do to pay him back for these two weeks kept Sherlock following the skipping figure of Anna as they made their rounds to the rest of the shops.

 

**\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It was early evening when the two groups met up again. It was a wonder how much just an afternoon made Sherlock miss his partner. A smile did ghost over his lips when he saw John and James coming towards them, but John's attention was on James who had a quickly melting ice cream cone. Sherlock glared and steeled his shoulders preparing for what was sure to happen next.

Anna honed in immediately on the fact that her brother had an ice cream cone, she reached up and grabbed Sherlock's arm with both of her hands and tugged, "Uncle Lock, James got ice cream, how come I didn't get one?" she whined; just as Sherlock knew she would.

He didn't acknowledge her; instead he focused a glare on John just as he looked up and smiled at them. Sherlock allowed himself a small moment of gloating when he saw the doctor's smile falter upon seeing his glare.

"How did it go?" John asked as he and James finally approached the duo.

Sherlock gave him a look, "Horrid," he muttered and stepped around the trio to hail a cab.

John frowned and looked down at Anna who had a glare on her face, "I don't like him any more Uncle John, you're my favorite," she announced and held her hand up for John to take.

John chuckled and shook his head, "I'm sorry to hear that love," John tried to comfort her a little, then his nose wrinkled as he caught a whiff of an overly sweet odor, "Sherlock," he turned to the detective as a cab pulled up to the curb, "what is that horrid smell?"

"No need to bathe Anna tonight John," Sherlock said and flashed him a smirk as he bent his tall frame into the cab and left a baffled John on the curb with two small children. Oh…John would spend his remaining lifetime paying Sherlock back for this; of this Sherlock was sure.


	4. Never a Good Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock digs himself deeper yet and John can't believe how dense the man can be sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize profusely for the mistakes in this story. I wrote this before I had a beta and I'm just copying and pasting it here from ff.net. I am trying to comb through as I do to fix anything, but I miss a lot. There was also no Brit picking of this story, so I apologize for that too!

***Day 3 of Hell***

Sherlock looked at his phone again. He growled low in his throat. Now of all times Lestrade tells him he needs him; now when Sherlock is alone with the twins. He is alone. With. The. Twins. As in there is no John around to keep them entertained. Sherlock is solo and has been summoned; the one thing John explicitly told him he could not do. Sherlock frowns. He is debating; bring the twins to a crime scene and face John's wrath or sit and suffer. Of course Sherlock chooses option A. He will not sit in the flat with the twins while Lestrade has asked him to help in a triple…not single or even double, but triple homicide. This is _absolutely_ something Sherlock cannot pass up. He lifts his head and blinks. How in the bloody hell had he even gotten himself into this mess…he fell in love with John…that's how. He sighed and steeped his fingers under his chin as he replays the conversation he and John had the previous night.

**\--------------------------------------------------------**

_Sherlock buries his face between John's shoulder and neck taking his skin between his teeth eliciting a moan from John. His long fingers glide down John's sweat slicked torso and trace lazy patterns around hard muscle. Sherlock grins; he truly does love his army man and appreciates the upkeep John does with his body. Sherlock flicks his tongue over the reddened skin on John's neck as his fingers dip below the waistband of his pajama pants._

_"Sherlock I…I know what…ahhh," John attempted to turn the conversation back onto its original path because he knew Sherlock was attempting to distract him._

_"I said you can take them to their daycare," Sherlock growled and slipped his hand into John's pants to cup his very obvious erection._

_John hissed and his hips bucked, "And I told you their daycare isn't open tomorrow…I…I don't like the idea of leaving them with you either but it's only one day," John murmured into Sherlock's curls between kisses._

_Sherlock growls and lifts himself to look into John's blue eyes, "No," he states simply before lowering his lips onto John's. John attempts to pull away but there is nowhere for his head to go but deeper into his pillow. Sherlock's tongue pokes out and traces the seam of John's lips begging for entrance. John opens, he can't deny Sherlock anything in his haze of sex._

_"Ah…but Sherlock…" John loses his train of thought for a moment when he feels Sherlock's fingers wrap around his length._

_"Yes John, your bum is rather divine," Sherlock purred and pulled on John's ear lobe and licked the outer shell as his fingers began to move slowly around John's length._

_John sucked in a deep breath as his hips began to react of their own accord to Sherlock's fingers. John brought his fingers to tangle in Sherlock's hair and he tugged on the black curls, "Th-this changes nothing Sherlock…the…the kids will stay with you tomorrow," John huffed quickly._

_Sherlock growled and bit his shoulder rather hard to draw a gasp from John and feel his fingers tighten even more in his curls, "I'll give them a shelter," Sherlock promised as he kissed his way back to John's mouth._

_John smirked, "You care for them Sherlock," John countered and flicked his tongue over Sherlock's lips and nipped gently with his front teeth._

_Sherlock growled and lowered his lips to press heavily against John's and their tongue started their familiar tango. John's well practiced muscle attempted to assert its dominance but Sherlock was fighting back with gusto. John's hands gently left Sherlock's hair to trail down his spine. He grabbed two handfuls of pale globes and squeezed them. Sherlock hummed into John's mouth while his hands moved to grip the doctor's hips and pulled them up to grind against his. Sparks flew as their erect cocks rubbed against each other. Sherlock swallowed a moan from John and plunged his hips down against John's._

_"God Sherlock," John hissed as he broke the kiss to suck along Sherlock's jaw._

_Sherlock grinned, he loved making his doctor talk dirty, something about the way it rolled off of John's tongue made Sherlock's nerves ignite, "One condition," Sherlock whispered breathlessly as he reached over to their bedside table and grabbed the bottle of lube._

_John managed to squeeze one eye open to look at the detective, he gave one last sound suck to Sherlock's neck before pulling back a little, "What?" he asked in a rush of air._

_Sherlock grinned as he scrambled back from John to sit on his knees. He squeezed a generous amount of lube into his palm. He capped the bottle again and tossed it in the general direction of their table. John glared. Sherlock smirked and leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to the doctor's lips. Sherlock began to rub the lube over his palms then lowered his hands to John's throbbing member. He coated John's cock generously and paid extra attention to the sensitive head. Once Sherlock was satisfied with his lube job he crawls back up John's body. Sherlock lifts himself over John's member and guides the tip of John's cock against his tight hole._

_"I will not be blamed should anything go wrong with the terrors," Sherlock finally answered as he sat himself on John's cock._

_John gasped and arched his neck as he felt himself enter the tight hot hole of Sherlock. He squeezed his eyes and mouth shut sure to quiet his screams of ecstasy for the sake of the children. Sherlock smirked and pulled himself up John's length and slams back down. He lets out a moan before falling forward. His long arms wind around John's torso and he hugs the doctor close to him as he begins to rock his hips._

_"Sh-Sh…Sherlock," John sputters as his hands come to grip the detective's hips to help control the hard rhythm Sherlock seems intent to set. Slowly one of John's hands slides from Sherlock's hips to grip the detective's length. Sherlock let out a moan and buried his head between John's shoulder and neck. He began to nibble and lick the skin there._

_"I am…n-not responsible," Sherlock groaned and slammed his hips down on John._

_John groaned and lifted his hips in response and pressed his thumb against the center of Sherlock's head and swirled. Sherlock whimpered and his hips bucked, this action caused John's cock to scrape Sherlock's prostate and the detective had to bite down on John's neck to keep from crying out too loud. John grinned and tightened his fingers around Sherlock's cock and ran his fingers just under the hood of Sherlock's engorged head. He then trailed his index finger down the vein on the underside of the shaft and kept going to Sherlock's sac. John loved to play with Sherlock, it was about the only way the doctor could get an ounce of control over the highly intelligent detective._

_"You ah….are e-ent….entirely responsible," John answered with a thrust of his hips into Sherlock. Sherlock growled in response and rolled his hips. John gasped and Sherlock quickly placed his lips over John's so that he could taste him. John arched his back violently from the bed, he could feel the familiar tightening of his stomach as he began to thrust harder into Sherlock._

_Sherlock grinned at John's admission and slammed his hips down to meet John's as they rose. Time for talking had ceased. Sherlock groaned and his entire body shuddered as it too came close to his release. John's hand continued to move over his hard cock. The doctor could feel how close Sherlock was to orgasm and traced his thumb nail very gently along the underside of the detective's cock and swirled it around the sensitive head catching the precum dripping there. John smirked when he felt Sherlock bite his neck to keep a loud moan hidden. John tilted his neck away to open it up more to Sherlock's searching mouth and tongue. John had to bite his own lip as a spasm moved through his abdomen and through his cock buried inside of Sherlock. He grunted and his free hand bit into Sherlock's hip and he slammed the detectives arse down onto him and John surged up to meet him._

_Sherlock moaned deep in his chest and lifted his head to rest his lips over John's to swallow his moans and gasps as the doctor began to come. John's eyes squeezed shut and his hips arched violently into Sherlock as he lost himself completely in a haze of sex. Sherlock, in response, pressed his lips hard to John's and swiveled his tongue around the doctor's as his own hips began to move of their own accord. It was only moments after John began to come that he felt himself emptying onto John's chest. Sherlock moaned into John's mouth and explored the inside of John's mouth and savored the tastes there before collapsing, still connected, onto the doctor._

**\--------------------------------------------------------**

Sherlock glared at the DI. Lestrade was currently ranting and raving but none of his words penetrated Sherlock's ears. Sherlock was also vaguely aware of Annabelle and James somewhere behind the police tape with a gaping Sally Donovan. Sherlock smirked before focusing on Lestrade.

"You have gone sodding mad Sherlock," Lestrade huffed with a glare.

Sherlock shrugged boredly and snapped the rubber gloves over his fingers, "And you still have no brain, now show me the bodies," he demanded and flashed the DI a quick smile, one Lestrade had come to call the; I'm-a-smartass-and-you're-the-butt-of-all-my-jokes smile.

Lestrade sighed and nodded as he motioned Sherlock to follow him into the house. It was a moderately sized house located a few miles outside of the city. It had been vacant for years…economy and all that, and had served as a perfect dumping grounds and party spot. Sherlock sniffed as a faint smell of alcohol and recreational drugs wafted into his nostrils. He knew Lestrade couldn't pick up the smell and it was irrelevant so he didn't bring it up. Sherlock followed Lestrade to the second floor where three bodies lay. They were all face down and all female. They barely wore any clothes and were arranged in a triangle. Sherlock raised a brow; interesting. Even more interesting was the note written in blood on the floor inside of the bodies.

_'Our brothers and sisters have gone mad!'_

Sherlock raised a brow. His mind cranked trying to decipher what the message meant. He turned to Lestrade, "See if any of the women had brothers or sisters and then check their medical records," he told the detective inspector who quickly jotted a note.

Sherlock crouched down and looked over each woman. They were all wearing low cut dresses with high hem lines. Clearly they showed their assets. Sherlock then noted the slight traces of blood pooled under each woman. He turned one and saw that her entire front was brutally slashed. He furrowed his brows; Lestrade made a noise behind him and looked at the wall. Sherlock sighed and placed the body back as it had been. He rocked back to rest on his heels and glanced back at Lestrade, "Serial killer. Looks like he's targeting call girls, modern day Jack the Ripper…boring," Sherlock stated and swiftly moved to his feet and removed his gloves.

"Modern day Jack the Ripper…original," Lestrade sighed as his forensic team moved in.

Sherlock glared at Anderson as he passed, "Try not to get too excited Anderson…we don't need your DNA contaminating the scene…then again…" Sherlock trailed as his gaze slid to Sally who scowled.

"I-"

"Anderson," Lestrade warned before the two got into a pissing match.

Sherlock smirked and threw his gloves into a trash bin and pulled out his phone as he started to walk away, "He may have adopted the persona of Jack the Ripper but this man is upper class. Each of these women were high end call girls. They don't come cheap and you have to pay up front."

Anderson snorted, "So is that how Sherlock gets his kicks then?"

Sherlock snapped his head up, "At least I get my 'kicks' Anderson, lord knows sergeant Donovan must be getting boring by now," he shot back as he scrolled through a few different links on his phone looking through different call girl sites. Sherlock was just scrolling through a few links when he heard the most distinguishable sound coming up the stairs.

"Anna we were supposed to stay in the car," James scolded as he tromped up the stairs.

"Well I'm bored," Anna shot back.

Everyone in the room seemed to have frozen for a few seconds. Sherlock paled even more as the twins stepped into the room. Sally and Anderson seemed to react the quickest and moved to stand in front of the bodies. Lestrade was the third and moved forward.

"Anna, James, you two were told explicitly to stay in the car," Lestrade frowned and started to usher the children out of the room.

Anna's eyes went huge when she saw the feet of one of the women, "Ohhhhh, is that a dead body?" she asked excitedly and tried to duck Lestrade's arms.

Sherlock shook his head and scowled. He pocketed his phone and grabbed Anna as she tried to run past. Lestrade held James who looked petrified, "You two are insufferable," Sherlock huffed and strode towards the door while Anna wiggled against his hip trying to get free.

"But I wanna see," she pouted and kicked her feet.

Sally smirked, "Corrupting the future Sherlock?" she sneered and Anderson chuckled.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and didn't turn around, "Oh please Sally, it's not like your offspring or God forbid Anderson's need walk the earth," he stated and set Anna on her feet next to Lestrade who had dropped James.

"I'm sorry Uncle Lock...s-she made me," the boy stammered and looked about ready to cry.

Sherlock looked down at Anna who was still staring towards the bodies, he sighed and grabbed her arm and held his hand down to James, "No matter we're all in trouble anyways," Sherlock mumbled and tugged the children back downstairs. John would not be happy about this, but for the moment Sherlock couldn't seem to care, it was his fault anyways.

Anna looked up at Sherlock, she seemed impervious to what she had just seen, "Uncle Lock, what's it mean…that saying written on the floor?" she asked him.

Sherlock stopped walking and looked down at her, "H-how did you see that?" he asked her, she hadn't possibly gotten close enough to see it; hade she?

Anna grinned, "Before Sally and Anderson moved I saw it…they didn't move quickly enough, did you see it too James?" she asked as she bounced around them.

James frowned and turned even more ashen, "Shut up Anna," he snapped.

"You two weren't supposed to see anything…John is going to kill me," he muttered and shot his glare at Anna.

Anna grinned, "But it was boring Uncle Lock, I didn't want to sit in the police car," she retorted.

"You won't be coming back or to another crime scene again so count your blessings," he sighed and moved to the curb as they reached the main street.

"Good, I don't ever want to," James said and seemed to sigh with relief.

"Awwwww," Anna groaned and crossed her arms and hunched her shoulders; "we never get to have fun."

Sherlock smirked as he hailed a cab, "Precisely," he said and opened the door for the twins to get in.

Anna glared and stuck her tongue out at him as she climbed in and James followed after. Sherlock sucked in a deep breath before climbing in himself. This was terrible. There was a serial killer targeting call girls, possibly the most exciting case since the bombings with Moriarty months ago, and Sherlock was stuck with two of the biggest mind blocks known to man. Already he felt a headache beginning to throb just behind his eyes, he would have to have a talk with John when he got home from the surgery, there was absolutely no way Sherlock could solve this and figure out the message if he had the twins surrounding him at every turn.


End file.
